Cancer death and mourning

 

 

On March 16, 2000, my mother died of cancer. From September 1999 until

March 1, 2000, I was virtual writer-in-residence for the trAce, an on-

line writing community. During this period, up through and after her

death, I wrote an extended meditation, broken up into smaller texts, on

cancer and death. Some of this was in the diary I kept for trAce. The

following is a record, begining with dates from my partner's diary.

 

from Azure Carter's diary:

 

## On Tuesday, July 6, 1999, we went to the New York Public Library and

saw Alan's mother & had dinner w/ Tom & Leslie. I think we had lunch at

the Italian place w/ Evelyn (mother). This must have been the 1st time I

met her. I arrived on the 26th of June. My aunt came to NY July 1 & left

the 5th.

## On Thursday, July 8, we went to PA, probably w/ your mother. This was

probably when they were working on our space. (Workmen had to install a

new outer wall on the building.)

## On the 9th, we went to the Back Mountain Library Auction.

## On the 14th we took the new computer to Brooklyn.

## On the 28th Wednesday we went back to NY 10 am.

## On Tuesday, August 17, we met Evelyn at 12:30. We probably had lunch at

the Italian place & maybe frozen yogurt at the health food place.

## I had "surgery" on the 10th Saturday, crossed out.

## On Sept 18th, Evelyn's 80th b-day. We went to PA 1 pm.

## On Sept 21, 3pm bus home.

## On Sept 27, I think we were supposed to hear from Evelyn about her

tests.

## On October 5, Evelyn had surgery.

## On October 27th, move furniture 8 am. (The furniture was moved from

mother's apartment in Manhattan to our apartment in Brooklyn; she was

retiring and moving back to Pennsylvania.)

## Dec 13, drive to NY w/ Foofwa (dancer). Stop in PA first. Have lunch at

Peregino's w/parents.

## Dec 18, leave for NY, 10:10 am.

## January 21, 2000, leave for PA w/ Joanna (my daughter). We meant to go

earlier but there was bad weather.

## Leave for NY @ 8:30 am, Jan 23. (Joanna leaves & Mark & Cathy arrive

all on this day) (Mark * Cathy go to PA on the 25th)

## March 11, go to PA @ 3:15 pm.

## March 12, see Evelyn's doctor @ 9am

## March 13, Evelyn moved into the hospice.

## March 14, Peter & Margie go to Toronto. Sandy arrives.

## March 16, Evelyn died @ 9 am.

## March 18, Margie and Peter go to PA.

## March 20, Evelyn's funeral.

## March 26, go to NY@ 3:10 pm.

 

 

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incidence of 'cancer' in recent files

 

ah:0 am:0 an:0 ap:1 ba:0 bb:0 cc:1 dd:1 ee:1 ff:0 gg:0 hh:1 ii:0 jj:1 jk:0

jl:0 jm:1 jn:0 jo:0 jp:0 jq:1 jr:0 js:0 jt:0 ju:0 jv:0 jw:0 jx:0 jy:0 ka:0

kb:2 kc:0 kd:0 ke:0 kf:0 kg:0 kh:0 ki:0 kj:0 kk:0 kl:0 km:0 kn:0 ko:1 kp:3

kq:1 kr:2 ks:0 kt:0 ku:0 kv:0 kw:0 kx:1 ky:0 kz:0 la:0 lb:0 lc:6 ld:36 oc-

tober, and hope le:0 lf:0 lg:0 lh:0 li:17 march, and death lj:3 lk:2 ll:1

lm:0 ln:0 lo:0 lp:0 lq:0 lr:1

 

 

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face

 

 

there are facial scrubbings, sloughed skin, foetal membranes ,,

drawn down over nose and mouth, palls over eyes, burst bubbles,

waters, afterbirths, miscarriages, thinned to blown egg-white

consistency ,,

*/ what makes you yearn for me for me for me

breathing through albumen, caught against glues held taut across the

ears, lymph-tympana, silked, almost sweet and globular ,,

stumped arms, legs moist and glistening, phantom flailed limbs soaked

in mucous ,,

*/ i so do do do want to understand to understand

understanding through the throat, black bile, bruised abdomens,

cauterizations ,,

yellowed scars, dipthongs and pallid scabs, little stories on

distended skins ,,

*/ i see those boys boys boys

boys and their milky legs, boys and their milky legs ,,

swollen salivary glands, mouth dribbles whitened against pale

contusions, marks of non-memory, dried tears, fleshed-peeled from torn

corners of tumescent eyes ,,

mumblings beneath surfaces, through the nostrils, what, nothing,

what, what ,,

girls' blood, clotted tastes suffused on paler skin, ruptured dreams

gone long ways back ,,

coming broken to you, i, i, i, i am sick of that letter, of any

letter, of any ,,

*/ does it bother you that letter of any, or a father or a mother?

of you, what a bother ,,

closed up remnants, edged with juices, designs and vomits ,,

and and brocades, and a long way back ,,

and and and drenched clothes, and a longer way ,,

and a way and a longer way ,,

*/ you mentioned that letter of any letter of any?

back back back ,,

and can you elaborate on that and look at me?

 

 

====

 

 

THE TRUTH OF CLAR

 

 

II. Thu Sep 9 01:23:04 EDT 1999 Only God creates the transcendence for

truth. This always already pushes the stack back; what requires absolution

procures it in relation to the Mother. Thu Sep 9 01:23:55 EDT 1999

Transcendence is a condition of abandonment, indeed, of the abandoned - so

says Clar. Thu Sep 9 01:24:32 EDT 1999 Clar adds, abandonment among a

population of refugees is equivalent as true Abandonment to God. To leave

the Trappings of Our Life according to Buddha, to cross borders,

inconceivable transgressions: such are the Reincarnated themselves. Thu

Sep 9 01:25:48 EDT 1999 Clar says, within the new Carapace, there is the

Ward of Our Soules; the converted leave their Implements behind. Beyond is

the Way of God, which is the Way of Vast Abandonment. Thu Sep 9 01:26:36

EDT 1999 Even to breath, Clar says, requires no presence of the Lord, who

is a distraction. Thu Sep 9 01:26:58 EDT 1999 Mind focuses beyond Godhead,

who is already with parts, breaking the Fast of Transcendence. Abandonment

must be total, eyes crossed, legs and arms spread, wheel and gyre. Clar

says, the way to the truth which is perfect Refuge and perfect Refugee.

When the borders are drawn, erased in earth, sand, water, sky, wind,

storm. Thu Sep 9 01:28:10 EDT 1999 No debris, nothing but what is trodden

underfoot. Thu Sep 9 01:29:10 EDT 1999 There are no fallen; who falls, is

abandoned, Clar says, and such abandonment is the finality of the search

for truth. The Way is the Wayside. The Way is the Wayside, Clar says,

against the advice of Buddha, God, her own dear conscience. Clar says the

Wayside deflects or derails the truth, which is what in all facticity, it

is. Thu Sep 9 01:30:20 EDT 1999 Clar says, I have nothing more to tell

you, what you have already known. Thu Sep 9 01:33:31 EDT 1999 Thu Sep 9

01:33:31 EDT 1999

 

I. Thu Sep 9 01:23:04 EDT 1999 Writing, Clar says, is the debris left

behind, the Subject of Abandonment, the pole or locus. Such, Clar

reflects, those who are Called, are Culled. Thu Sep 9 01:30:39 EDT 1999

The culling or the called, refuge and refugee, abandoned and abandonment

and abandoning, the way and the wayside, says Clar, to murmur these is to

murmur the truth from the corner of the eye, the thought just beyond

recognition, the voice barely understood, and come in the midst of the

night. Thu Sep 9 01:32:58 EDT 1999

 

 

=====

 

 

the yield

 

 

give a name to your illness, give a name to your illness

people we know and love are dying

this people we know and love are dying speeds endlessly through the body -

their bones collapsing under harsh suns before us, the day which spreads

across the table of dawn or dusk

cancers spread like pools of artificial life across desperate thought

cancer spreads like pools of artificial life across desperate thought

people we know and love are dying

they are dying with scans and with probes

they are dying with injections and superjections

and catastrophic radiations and molecular re-coordinatings

cancers spread like pools of artificial life across desperate thought

their bones collapsing under harsh suns before me, the day which spreads

before the table of dawn or dusk? probes here, ourselves, ourselves

 

are you properly compiling cancers spread like pools of artificial life

across desperate thought?

decoupled life on the horizon of white-noise annihilation-window

your body is mined and saturated; your body is a hole; your body is mine;

your body is a cancer

your body is a cancer, is a hole, is mine;

your body is penetrated, probed, mined and saturated;

your body is penetrated, reorganized

for 0 days, i have names for you and me

and it has taken you just 5.617 minutes turning in the very act of dying

...

people we know and love are dying.

the new computer will remain crying in the store in the new box.

the happy party will occur in another city very much alone.

we will walk in one room and smile, return to another and cry.

our mouths are open to the spears of the sun.

we are illumined, our cells crashing uselessly into organ after organ.

 

illuminations happen on the threshold of being.

we are called to being: our illuminations.

for an instant before the darkness: our illuminations.

for an instant with pen poised: our illuminations.

with the radiative luminescence of the bones: our illuminations.

what the dissimilar flux of molecules: our illuminations.

the threshold of stones is forgotten; the portal is forgotten.

people we know and love are dying.

for 0 days, the very beginning of the name.

 

 

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What impending death of oneself or another may construct:

 

 

i

 

One assumes in the absence of danger, disease, the extremities of life,

that one's project may continue indefinitely; thus writing tends in this

fashion towards a normative foreclosure, drawn by the exigencies and es-

thetics of apparent internal necessity. Impending collapse produces an/

other approach: that a project is only a process which may, like a diary

for example, be cut off arbitrarily at any point. Writing in these con-

ditions is a writing through urgency and emergency; it is writing that

attempts, in every phrase or sentence or paragraph, a recuperation and

resonance - as if the phrase or sentence or paragraph will be the last.

 

In this fashion, after time/ after time, it becomes apparent that there

is, of course, no last, not even with the excision or exclusion of life

-- that one's project is always already open-ended and on the verge of

failure. This recognition re-enters the project, restructures it from

within, so that the manifesto, for example, transforms into meaningless

phrases, self-doubts and critiques -- and all those other states that

some say characterize wisdom.

 

Of wisdom I know nothing, and of truth, less. I do know that impending

death, of oneself, or of someone so close that one is rubbed raw through

it, has the ability to transform text into fragile self-reflective flow;

object into discourse, a never-ending conversation full of glances, ex-

postulation and pauses; and foundations into an uneasy grasp of such,

the world slipping through one's fingers, the sky always already threat-

ening, close to disappearance beneath an angry, raging, dying, sun.

 

ii

 

When the thing becomes a catheter

When being becomes a sponge

When beings become intravenous

When nothingness becomes a scan

When the void becomes radiation

When the I becomes chemotherapy

When entities become medication

When objects become neurasthenias

When selves become schizophrenias

When death becomes thing, being, beings

When death becomes nothingness, void, I

When death becoes entities, objects, selves

When death becomes thing, being, beings, nothingness, void, I, entities,

objects, selves

 

 

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Metastasis

 

 

Tha faallng th$t flash h$s laft ma, th$t bpnas $ra hald by phpnamas np

lpngar sppkan, th$t tha Symbpl by tha Ha$rth h$s ch$rrad:If I can't write,

I won't be able to wait for you, O Existence. I am afraid of opposites,

each and everywhere.:W$ltlng: I $m $fr$ld pf lpslng my $blllty tp wrlta. I

$m $fr$ld pf npn-axlstanca.:dissolved forever: W$ltlng: I $m $fr$ld pf

lpslng my $blllty tp wrlta. I $m $fr$ld pf npn-axlstanca. transforms Your

Tha faallng th$t flash h$s laft ma, th$t bpnas $ra hald by phpnamas np lp-

ngar sppkan, th$t tha Symbpl by tha Ha$rth h$s ch$rrad on Burning Creek...

Ah, Living with Levels and Blues!thraa hhndrad calls ln tha bpy tast tast:

two hundred twenty bonesin the girl test test test:pna hhndrad twanty

bpnas ln tha bpy tast tast:eight hundred cells in the girl test test test:

Devour me eight hundred cells in the girl test test test Brought Forth

through thraa hhndrad calls ln tha bpy tast tast!

 

 

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the walk before the last walk

the second meal before the last meal

the third laugh before the last laugh

the night before the last night

the second day before the last day

the third laugh before the last laugh

 

the walk after the last walk

the second meal after the last meal

the third laugh after the last laugh

the night after the last night

the second day after the last day

the third laugh after the last laugh

 

the shadow of a man near a three o'clock store

the sound of a child running near her school

 

 

c:\last\death\how it happens\child running near her school

 

+-------------------------------- ---------------------------------+ st n

ght th s c nd d y b f r th l st d y th th rd l gh b f r th l st l gh th l

st m l th th rd l gh b f r th l st l gh th n ght b f r th l st n ght th s

c l st d y th th rd l gh b f r th l st l gh th w lk ft r th l st w lk th s

c nd l st w lk th s c nd m l b f r th l st m l th th rd l gh b f r th l st

l gh th r th l st l gh th n ght b f r th l st n ght th s c nd d y b f r th

l st d y th th w lk b f r th l st w lk th s c nd m l b f r th l st m l th

f r th l st n ght th s c nd d y b f r th l st d y th th rd l gh b f r th l

st ft r th l st n ght th s c nd d y ft r th l st d y th th rd l gh ft r th

l st l b f r th l st w lk th s c nd m l b f r th l st m l th th rd l gh b

f r th l st ft r th l st w lk th s c nd m l ft r th l st m l th th rd l gh

ft r th l st l hr cl ck st r th s nd f ch ld r nn ng n r h r sch l sh d w

f m n n r thr cl ck st r th s nd f ch ld r nn ng n r h r sch l th sh d w f

m n n r thr cl ck st r th s nd f ch ld r nn ng n r h r sch l ft r th l st

l gh th sh d w f m n n r thr cl ck st r th s nd f ch ld r nn ng n th l st

n ght th s c nd d y b f r th l st d y th th rd l gh b f r th l st l gh th

l st n ght th s c nd d y ft r th l st d y th th rd l gh ft r th l st l gh

t c nd d y b f r th l st d y th th rd l gh b f r th l st l gh th w lk ft r

th l s c nd d y ft r th l st d y th th rd l gh ft r th l st l gh th sh d w

f m n n sometimes i think this ruins the poem which i wrote and rewrote in

my sleep my dreams, ghosts haunting, haunched on my shoulders, unbearable

pain, then an effect as if it is the ruin itself which is the awakening ..

 

 

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bad ending

 

 

this is your space, first space, new, almost glistening, think of it as

bright, shiny wed sep 22 01:52:23 edt 1999 think of lip or nub, this is

second space, it is here an origin unfolds, dark space rimmed with in-

choate sounds, sometimes come together in doubled subharmonics wed sep 22

01:53:33 edt 1999 this is third space, space of electron and organization,

space of speed and speech, oh after the bright and glistening, this is

fourth space, of memory, data and measure polytope, space of defining

borderline middle, space of region, space of sometimes dusk wed sep 22

01:54:50 edt 1999 in fifth space center appears, lost from origin, hardly

doubled, imagining the greatest wheel, beings chained, shadowed clouds

gather wed sep 22 01:55:39 edt 1999 towards sixth space appointing direc-

tions, winds begin, center disappears, unholding, beings fluttered in

vertical flight, space of memory, data acquisitions, tensor calculi and

wed sep 22 01:56:31 edt 1999 seventh space, comfort of center in the midst

of monsoons and thunders, debris tossed off the foam of grey-slate waves,

skies the colours of meteors wed sep 22 01:57:03 edt 1999 into the ninth

of planetary realms, for what remains in high wind but clutter, destruc-

tion of family photograph, history, talisman, it's here among the planets

mind begins to go, tears where thoughts gathered. the once. wed sep 22

01:59:17 edt 1999 tenth and now long walking, forgetting with fearful

eyes, tornado wed sep 22 01:59:48 edt 1999 i wonder i don't remember her

name ]

       [ eighth space, unfolding of origin and body, limbs akimbo, nouns,

torn hurricane fabrics, tsunami restless and fast beneath the waves, doub-

ling of selves fearful plasma, endless roads, is it tenth or twelfth, what

is the rocking moon, where is the child living down the street wed sep 22

02:00:18 edt 1999 fourteenth or ninth, she was so sweet i wonder i don't

remember her name

 

 

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Comments

 

 

MOUNT

/dev/root / minix rw 0 0

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/dev/ram3 /tmp minix rw 0 0

/dev/hda1 /mnt msdos rw 0 0

 

Some people really can't read about the problems others are having; for

others, including myself, it's healing, knowing there are other people

who feel like I do, that I may be crazy, but there are other crazies out

there and maybe we aren't that crazy after all.

 

But sometimes as well people attack me for how I feel. I mean, how could

I be attacked, I'm just expressing myself, what I'm going through. I

don't want to lay it on anyone else, I just want to be understood. I

don't even want sympathy, just maybe there would be someone reading what

I have to say who could understand me or help.

 

Very briefly, if it wasn't for these people on line, I would kill myself

a long time ago. These have been the people who have helped me when my

friends haven't wanted to even hear anything about me.

 

What do I have to do, have a crisis before anyone listens to me? I'm 30

yrs. old and I've supported myself since I was 15. I know how to get

around but believe me, it's not been easy. And if I speak about malaise

or something that's not all that interesting, I mean how much of this

stuff really IS interesting, then no one wants to hear me.

 

Now at least I can say how I feel. Before I could never talk to anyone.

Now I have someone who will listen to me when I express my rage, when I

want to kill myself. I know I will be a better person. It is enough that

they listen, they don't have to say anything. My computer has become my

best friend.

 

I've learned that I can discuss things better with you online than I can

with my doctor, and I know now who to avoid when I need to look for a

doctor. It has been very painful; it has been the most painful period of

my life and being on line has saved me time and again.

 

For once I could talk to my doctor and tell her that the medication was

not working, that it might have been a placebo for all I know. I said I

wanted to try something else, that I had the support of the online commu-

nity. I said nothing else mattered, my whole world gets caught up in this

or that medication and I know there is more to life than that.

 

Before, I was always taken by surprised; now I know when things are going

to get bad way ahead of time, and I can look for help from my doctor or

from online, and online people seem much more willing to listen.

 

Sometimes I'll feel so down, I could almost break things. Then to listen

online to people talking, I mean what they say to each other, how they

relate, sometimes it's really funny, and that helps a lot. I never thought

I could laugh so much from things coming over the screen but that's how

it is.

 

It is so spiritual to read these disembodied voices who never judge me,

and I know in real life they never would...

 

There are people out there in this town who could really benefit from all

this on line, they would learn how to better control themselves. I think

so many people in this culture are hurting or wrecked, I don't know where

it's all coming from, things are changing so fast, for everyone. I'm only

seventeen and I can hardly handle my life anymore, things going so fast

before my eyes, but when I get online I can really concentrate and slow

things down and learn to speak and think for myself.

 

You know, my daughter wouldn't talk to anyone, and we were both going

through a lot and it was coming on line that gave us the courage to speak,

first to others, and then to ourselves. It was so strange, we began by

writing back and forth, honestly trying to deal with our feelings, even

though we were living in the same house. I think things like this are

somehow more natural than being off line and walking warily around the

place, all of us fearful to speak to one another, we've got all those

defenses from being in the same place together too long.

 

Now this is what I have to say, don't use this as a crutch. If you do,

what will you do when y2k comes along or your computer goes? It's a lot

more delicate than a friend, you have to know that. It's not a friend at

all, it's machinery that brings you voices that help you and console you

from time to time. But you can't count on it. I wouldn't count on it at

all.

 

This has replaced drugs of any sort for me; you can't believe what I was

like at one time. I couldn't even sit down without shuddering. Now I have

the time to even be with my parents a little, we're beginning to under-

stand each other. But it's because of this screen, nothing else. And they

know that. Someday maybe I can put this aside, but not for a long long

time.

 

MAP

3859.76 3843.68

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08055000-08056000 rw-p 0000c000 01:00 4

08056000-0805e000 rwxp 00000000 00:00 0

40000000-40005000 r-xp 00000000 01:00 247

40005000-40006000 rw-p 00004000 01:00 247

40006000-40007000 rw-p 00000000 00:00 0

40008000-4006a000 r-xp 00000000 01:00 246

4006a000-4006f000 rw-p 00061000 01:00 246

4006f000-400a2000 rw-p 00000000 00:00 0

bfffe000-c0000000 rwxp fffff000 00:00 0

 

 

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